


the throne is bleeding

by eldritchbee



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Sibling Incest, Valonqar Prophecy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 07:48:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13185579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldritchbee/pseuds/eldritchbee
Summary: Kingslayer, Kinslayer, it never goes away. When he walks into the throne room of King's Landing, he doesn't plan on making it out alive. Valonqar prophecy, Jaime and Cersei end up dying together. Jaime's POV.





	the throne is bleeding

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really proud of a lot of my old ASOIAF stuff. When are the beautiful golden fools going out tragically together.

He dies reaching for her and thinks to himself,  _this isn't right_.

He dies crying, though really it’s more like sobbing. His last gulps of air come out like screams and wails and he thinks to himself that he needs to  _stop_. This isn't right; this wasn't how they were to be found in the morning.

He dies sobbing and reaching for her, but his golden hand only touches her ankle once he’s already gone and his arm has fallen and the damned thing has been knocked a thumbnail’s length away. He dies only a  _thumbnail’s length_  away from her with tears on his face that evaporate into the air hours later. The blood from his wound, a grotesque thing that goes from his inner thigh to just below his belly button, is the only thing to leave a stain. It still falls out of him after he dies, after his hand has fallen and the screams have stopped, but even his blood can’t stretch far enough to meet hers. Her wound is ugly too, but most of her blood is kept inside her heart by the hilt of her knife. Nothing about it is right.

He dies next to her, in the same room (the throne room, her on the steps and him below), at least that had factored into the plans he’s had since childhood. It is not, however, as he’d wished.

He’d always dreamed they would go together with golden hair turned silver laying hand in hand, her cheek on his as their last breaths twisted together in the air (a candle blows out, he always imagines a candle blowing out). When Joffrey was born, then Myrcella, then Tommen, he used to instead think of being brought before King Robert and executed for treason. They would be brought together on the chopping block or the gallows or  _wherever_  and in their last moments they would reach for each other (as he tried to now, but in his fantasy they would always make it in time, always close the distance and entwine fingers and singers would sing songs of their love in the quiet corners of the castle where Robert could never hear).

_(there will be no songs sung about them, he thinks between flashes of pain and fear and sobbing as he dies)_

_(at least, not any nice ones)_

He’d expected his death today, he prepared for this in the early morning when King’s Landing could be seen on the horizon. In between prepping men that weren't really his ( _Queen’s men_ ) for the siege he quietly prepped himself for his last day on Earth. Hours were spent on this, hours more than the actual battle planning. It seemed so simple when he planned: pull her from the throne with utterances of his love, drive the sword into her heart, hold her in his arms, pull out the sword and plunge it into his chest before her breath goes out.  _But that didn't go right either._  Though, he couldn’t have been surprised Cersei would refuse to play by the rules of his fantasy (he couldn't  _believe_ , at the time, he could have missed that she would have a weapon on her at all times, that she was a  _lioness_  and she would fight against him to her last breath).

When he imagined it, sometimes he would see Aerys in her place on the throne, his hands covered in scars and silvery white robes running red with blood while Jaime stood over the body while triumph started to bleed into his fear. In his mind, he tried to replace Aerys’ hands with hers as he remembered them, smooth and soft and curved towards him

_(he supposed it started going wrong when he looked at her hands and saw they were scarred from the twisted metal of the throne, he supposed when he saw that and hesitated that was where it went wrong)_

_(he thought maybe it was always going to go wrong)_

Tried to replace Aerys’ cruel laughter with her voice, imagined she would whisper something like ‘I love you’ (he would have even accepted ‘I loathe you’ as easily)

_(that was the second place it went wrong, her own laughter was high and hysterical when she saw him there and echoed the room like his sobs later would, she told him she should have known, screamed she should have known should have known it would be him should have known should have known love was poison should have known should have known should have…_

_he’d swung his sword to get her to stop, and his nerves or his left hand made him drop it before it could drive into her, she’d taken the chance and knocked him down)_

He’d gone so far as to think of what she’d wear. First white, but he had to remember how she disliked wearing white, so instead a soft pink and yellow took its place. Simple, with a belt that held it all together  _(and even that was wrong, though he wasn’t surprised to see her in red and gold with a neckline that swallowed her throat like some great mane and half armor on her breast, her hair grown enough to cover her ears)_

_(at least he’d remembered her crown)_

She’d ripped a hole in him first, and that was wrong too. Her words were neither of love or loathing, but simple. His blood on her hands brought a touch of clarity to her mad, twisted features and she’d murmured something he could barely catch before driving her own knife into her chest and shoving her away.

_(“We’re all kinslayers now.”)_

He’d fallen to the ground then. Falls to the ground and hears his sobs and screams as he tries to pull her back to him.

_(a mistake)_

_(he dies without reaching her, screaming and sobbing but never quite being able to finish saying her name cercercercercerssssceerrrrrrrs…)_

_(it wasn’t right)_

Nothing about it is right.

Or, she dies before him and maybe that’s the only thing.

Like when they were born, like when she would jump from the cliffs into swimming waters first, like when she would lead him nose first into whatever new mischief they were going to get into. Her dying before him seems right; at least she’ll have scoped everything out first. She’ll be prepared to lead him, prepared to punish him and prepared to forgive him (but then, these things always go so wrong for them).

If the gods are kind, perhaps she’ll be the first person he gets to see.

**Author's Note:**

> originally written and posted january 23, 2013 from [astormofsansas](http://astormofsansasmoved-blog.tumblr.com/post/41306108094/the-throne-is-bleeding-jaimecersei)


End file.
